The Lost Isle of the Ancients
by Failed Charge
Summary: During the End Times a young Bretonnian knight called Sorel is forced into a path which leads him through the Bretonnian civil war into an Ancient Isle. There Sorel and his fellow knights must stop the dreaded Black Knight for achieving his mysterious objective and by doing so they interfere with something that may very well change the fate of Warhammer world forever...
1. 1 Prologue

**The Village of Amyen, near Couronne (85 years ago)**

Chill wind blew over nearby hills and merciless rain beat the ground with its constant onslaught. The light of day had already lost its eventual battle to the night and was retreating rapidly. It almost seemed that colors had started to vanish from the world altogether. The nature was slowly kneeling before the winter and soon everything would be covered on snow. It almost seemed that the huts and cottages surrounding the fabled Castle of Couronne had some way of knowing all this as they seemed to be hugging each other tightly before the cold of the world.

This was of course a lie, because the rural residents of the capital region of Bretonnia had a good reason to remain close together and within short distance from their knightly master's fortress. Taxes would be collected and the paymasters work is much easier on tightly packed villages. Like sheep the peasants would be herded to the village square and asked to pay their yearly portions. Those whose wares now seemed slim would most likely see the less civil side of their protector, the King. Abandoned shacks here and there spoke for themselves; not all of the farmers would be seeing the next summer, that was for sure… but butchered like the sheep they were.

If any of the poor farmers from a small village of Amyen would have endured on the rainy and cold night and remained outside they would have been amazed at the sight of a small stranger that was slowly but steadily wandering through their muddy roads. The small thing had covered it´s features with a traveler´s cloak and thus only it´s nose tip toughed the cold and wet evening air. The wanderer was steadily progressing among the cottages and seemed to be content of not being seen. It ploughed between shacks and stables until it finally reached the middle of the village and its square.

Suddenly the stranger sighed loudly and grinned inside it´s garments as it spotted a certain sign of a peacock on a nearby shack.

"Phew, finally some shelter!" It said and stepped inside the small cottage.

Warmth of burning timber, crude singing and the smell of food mixed with beer filled the little creature´s mind. Soon rows of tables filled with drinking farmers came into view. A large fireplace was welcoming all the inns customers and shed its light at the center of the small and shoddy main room and around it stood tables full of drunken customers. On the far corner at the left one could spot a simple table which acted as a counter for the innkeeper.

The counter and the whole inn was one of the poorest that the stranger had ever seen: Only one large barrel of beer stood before the innkeeper´s table and some odd wine bottles were present on the other side of the old oaken table. The interior was lacking in all senses; only a couple of shelves stood behind the poor counter which held the mugs that were used for drinking. Next to the counter there was an open door where all the odours of food were originating. It smelled of roasted pork and forced the stranger to pull pack some saliva which appeared into his lips. On the far wall there was an ugly painting of a bird which indicated the Inn`s name: A Running Peacock.

A group of customers were smacking each other's at one corner and the poor lone serving girl was being molested equally at all the tables that she passed. All in all, it was probably the lousiest shack that pretended to be an inn that there was. Malformed peasants drank their few pennies, although these men represented the wealthier kind of Bretonnia´s not-noble citizens. Most of the farmers could never visit such a place, or indeed, buy anything.

Still, somehow the little wanderer felt himself at home when once more surrounded by lots of people. The company of drunken men helped to forget that it had travelled all the way from his beloved land of the Empire to this miserable shack. Now he would need a beer and something to eat… that juicy pork perhaps! For this purpose the small figure moved towards the counter...

"Oy, You´re too young to drink, little fella!" A nearby man shouted at him as he passed. He didn´t mind and continued his journey to the mugs, but didn´t get far before the same man grasped him from the shoulder and continued his drunken rabble:

"Ey you, I said dat go see yer mommy!" The man insisted and laughed as he pulled the wet cloak from protecting the strangers face. Soon the little one was the center of attention as the other customers saw his features: A young grinning face and boyish features, but on a grown small man. The old drunkard had made a grave mistake for calling Tidblit the Merciless a mere boy… and the Halfling mercenary was already in action when the drunkard started to realize that it had not been such a great idea after all.

Tidblit reached for his pistol and soon the drunken fool's nose filled the barrel of his beloved tool of trade. It barely reached its quarry, but somehow the cold metal managed to meet the quivering flesh that reminded more of a potato than nose. The Halfling tucked back the firing mechanism with such swiftness that it was evident that he had shot with this pistol a few times before the current incident.

"I just want one beer, human, and a chat with some friends, ok?" The mercenary asked almost politely. The inhumanly childish tone rang among the structures of the inn as all the other noises had somehow vanished. For a moment all people in the inn simply stared at the odd duo.

It took some time for the farmers to realize what Tidblit was holding against their friends face, but soon their amazed expressions indicated that at least some of them had seen a pistol before. Black powder weapons were rare in Bretonnia as the nobility had declared them not fitting for any knight. The nobility also were most eager to keep them out from the peasants because they knew what force they held… and therefore they had been condemned as weapons of sorcery.

Despite all these warnings, and common reason, the small pistolier noticed that some farmers were slowly reaching for their shepherding sticks that were resting near the door… and acted accordingly by raising another pistol on their direction.

"Please, make my day!" He threatened the bunch.

For a moment all were silent and the drunk who had started the fight was forced to pay very close attention on the features of his threatener: The halflings one eye was missing and had been replaced with an eye patch. Pistols were hanging all over the tiny man and he seemed to have an eternal grin surrounded by stubble that dominated his rough facial features. Somewhat tanned skin had been covered with tattoos. Some odd inscriptions cowered the left side of the halflings neck and looked more like pictures than text. All signs on the small mercenary indicated that the halfling killed for money, of that the old Pierre was sure. The poor man gulped as he started to realize that he would most likely be dead soon if the Halfling so decided. He was shaking out of fear and was not able to say anything for his protection.

The innkeeper however had seen enough and slowly poured one mug full of beer. He slammed the cup on the counter and stated: "Here´s yer drink, little one. Don´t mind of old Pierre. He´s a nuisance an´ all but pays his bills… come on, have yer drink. On the house for ye!"

"I want some food too, dear sir!" the mercenary replied almost mockingly and tried not to produce saliva as the roasted pork once again filled its small nose.

"Fine, I´ll bring ye a piece… this shall be a gift from old Pierre, I reckon…?"

The drunkard nodded repeatedly and mumbled something about always paying his depths.

"See, he´s a good bloke an all… ye take it easy, lad!" The innkeeper said as he waited the halflings decision.

For a moment the staring contest between the regular customers and the newcomer continued, but finally the Halfling lowered his weapons and walked to the counter. He sipped the beer with one swing and the innkeeper filled another mug as he passed the steaming meat. Next the little stranger was guided to a table near the counter by the serving girl. There he sat and waited patiently for his friends as he gulped the meat. The rest of the Peacocks customers left the mercenary alone as they saw that he was at ease.

A couple of drinks and a meal of roasted pork later the door to the Inn opened and a couple of poor farmers entered. Tidblit watched them closely and inspected them thorough. The slightly bigger man had to be Fraz as he fit into the vague description that his contact named "Hugo" had said: A tall, simple looking man. That Fraz indeed seemed to be as he was staring like an idiot at all the customers at the inn and tried to spot someone... which was probably him, even though the halfling had never met the man before nor mentioned of his appearance. Yup, this one had to be Fraz.

The other man beside the gazing brute seemed to be a little cleverer fellow as he talked to the brute and commanded him to stop gazing. His name had to be Skinny, which fit to the man precisely. Lithe, small body and large head with owl's eyes seemed to fit "Hugos" earlier description nicely. Both had very little facial hair and Tidblit thought to himself that the men had not probably eaten enough for them to grow… poor creatures. Both were wearing simple grey rags which indicated them to be the poorest of the poor.

These two had to be people from the almost abandoned shacks that he saw earlier and he, a killer, was their last hope to stay alive… yet he didn´t really care. He simply couldn´t feel pity anymore, as old Tidblit had seen enough to know how the world worked. Death was for the weak and fortunes for the men who didn´t care… and he wanted to be the latter most eagerly.

Tidblits gazed once again at the pair. The smaller man had most likely commanded the brute for some time now, as Fraz stopped almost immediately when Skinny barked. Alas, this also caught the attention of the Peacock´s customers and the harm had been done already.

Tidblit cursed a little as he spotted that several drunkards were now staring at the two men near the door, who had not even walked properly inside the inn yet. The mercenary quickly indicated for them to join his table and grinned as the duo spotted him. It seemed that they were scared of him and that was good. All should be scared of Tidblit the Merciless… ouh, yes.

The peasants sat at Tidblit´s table and were nervously looking upon the halflings rows of pistols. Tidblits enjoyed their terror for a moment before he allowed them to hear his childish tone.

"Good evening, gentlemen" he stated and continued: "I believe we all know the man named Hugo somehow?"

"Err… yes?" Skinny replied as he surveyed the scraps of meat that the mercenary had left to his plate. Fraz was salivating openly and drool was dripping from the corners of the simpleton's mouth to his pants, yet the brute seemed not to notice that.

"And you are Fraz and Skinny?" The mercenary verified.

"Aye, its uss" Fraz mumbled and slowly reached for the meat.

Tidblit quickly grasped the man's hand before it reached the leftovers of his dinner. He put pressure on it and the big man yelped a little.

"Auts! Dat hurts!" he protested, but the little mercenary had a firm grip.

"Not yet! I have to check few things first" The one eyed killer stated before he continued:

"My name is Tilly and I´ll be your boss for now, ok? You´ll do just as I say, ok?" The halfling asked and looked at them coldly one at a time in order to indicate that there would not be an argument on the matter.

"Yes, Tilly… err, Boss, I mean…" Skinny answered and desperately avoided the halflings murderous gaze. Fraz simply bit his lip and nodded repeatedly as his hand started to turn red on the halflings hard grip.

"And…do you have all the stuff, as promised?" Tidblit asked from Skinny.

"Um, yes boss!" the lithe man said as he continued: "A cart full o´ apples, some rope and a shuffle of sorts…"

"SSSH! We don´t want all to hear, do we?!" the mercenary said irritated. He still let go of the bigger man's arm and both Fraz and Skinny started to strip the meat from the few bones that were left of his late dinner.

Skinny had still touched a soft spot on Tidblit´s ego by calling him a boss and the mercenary looked fascinated at the duo as they battled over his late meal before him. Finally he would be a leader of some sorts and this would be his very first gang. With almost fatherly pride the mercenary ordered them to stop their battle and soon the odd group left the inn and wandered to the night. They had a lot to do tonight and also a lot to gain…

**Castle Couronne (85 years ago)**

The Castle of Couronne was one of the wonders of Bretonnian engineering and a stunning sight to anyone who managed to set one´s gaze upon it. The walls of this triumphant castle were several meters high and its high towers seemed to challenge the heavens themselves. The white rock of the castle walls seemed to glow in the dark, as if the the garrison was of ethereal origin… and according to some it actually was.

It had been once prophesized that nobody can conquer the castle´s mighty walls. This prediction was not hard to believe, as the castle had been built atop ancient elven ruins which resided atop a steep hill. It was almost impossible to move entire armies near it and even if one could, the steep hill would slow any charge into almost stand-still. The castles durability had indeed become a legend in itself as no-one had managed to invade it after Bretonnian kings first built and occupied it. To make matters worse for the invaders, some even say that below the ground there´s even more floors than above the ground…

In this mighty castle´s nightly shadow a lone cart was approaching its main gate. The night was calming down and even the raining had stopped as if in honor to the castle. The calm weather enhanced the eerie glow effect of the walls on the three passengers and they simply gazed at the incredible structure in awe. Everything was silent in the night before it was broken by an ugly sound:

"It glowz like dose nightflys" Fraz commented.

"Silent now, stupid!" Tidblit replied and also smacked the brute in the head to indicate that he meant it.

"Oww…" the big man wailed but seemed to get the message as he quickly covered his mouth with his big hands and stayed silent.

Tidblit and his crew were slowly but surely moving towards the main castle of the Bretonnia and even the mercenary had to admit to himself that it was a frightening sight… especially for men like him. There were always people who would view the cities and castles as some kind of safe locations and indeed the Halfling could imagine that many of the poor peasants would do anything in order to live within the safety of the huge stone walls… but he didn´t like their false comfort. If Tidblit had learned anything from his journeys then one of them had to be the fear of comfort. Cities had their ways of appearing civilized and orderly but the reality was always something else. If one started to forget the dangers of the world within some walls… then he would be dead quickly. No, Tidblit had always enjoyed the wilderness more. That was one of the reasons why he had agreed to take this job in the first place. He enjoyed the journey, not the stops. And he also hate the idea of being trapped within a closed courtyard with hundreds of man-at-arms and entire batteries of stone throwers closing their way out… no, he definitely was more of an outdoor person!

The two men and a halfling reached the main gate and after some waiting in a line with other carts that also wanted to enter the castle, they were led through the gates. Tidblit wore his cloak once again to hide his features and Skinny introduced him as his son who was visiting the castle for the first time. The guards didn´t care too much about the strangers as they bribed them with a couple of apples, which they had in their cart as a cargo. It seemed that even the king's guards were not immune to bribery and Tidblit liked that fact a lot. It certainly made their job a little easier.

Couronne has always been important node within the trading routes of Bretonnia and thus it´s castle was basically open to messengers and food bringing farmers through the night after heavy inspections. To Tidblit this seemed strange, as even the City of Altdorf closed its gates by night. It almost seemed that the king had forgotten what living in a castle meant. Perhaps he might once more pay here a visit and do some "sightseeing". Tidblit asked about it from Skinny, who had delivered apples before to the king´s kitchen.

"Aye, the gates are always open… no one would be stupid enough to rob from here, boss."

"Why, dear Skinny? Too many guards?"

Skinny moved closer to Tidblit and very briefly pointed his finger to the top of the walls before he stated:

"Guards? No, its dem…" he said with frightened tone.

"Stone throwers? Surely one could pass them?"

"No! The Paladins of Virtue!" Skinny insisted.

Now Tidblit raised his gaze to the top the walls and noticed a strange figure. A knight was walking along the edges of the battlements. This however didn´t seem as an ordinary knight. The figure was almost glowing and it´s visor was illuminated with some sort of inner light! As if noticing him, the knight turned and gazed at Tidblit who quickly forgot his plans about robbing the castle…

"Lets hurry, shall we?" Tidblit asked and Skinny eagerly sped up their trusty mules so that they finally reached the kitchen.

After carrying their cargo to the castle´s kitchen the three "men" were guided to receive their payment at the nearby lodgings of the paymaster. There were two guards standing beside the fat, pig-like man, who sat behind huge table and was playing with copper bits as they entered. Several heads of hunted animals circled the small room which was filled with shelves full of parchment and a few books as well.

"Good evening… I mean… night, sire!" Skinny greeted the paymaster who took a swig of vine as if to sign that he had to work again.

"It´s as good as any if ye ask for me…" the paymaster answered as he lowered his mug and continued: "And do speak out, peasant, what you brought for us this time and how much?"

"Two crates of apples, sire" Skinny flattered and that seemed to do the trick. The paymaster loosened a little and opened some sort of book upon his desk. Soon his fingers were moving along the ancient looking tomes pages.

"Let us see… apples… there they are! Two copper bits a bunch, so it makes four for ye…" he muttered and moved four small pieces of a former copper coin towards the trio.

Tidblit stood behind Fraz and Skinny on purpose as he didn´t want to be seen properly. As Skinny moved towards the copper the halfling acted by stating:

"Thanks for the copper, sir. We are Hugo´s friends all. You had something else for us in return?"

The paymaster went pale and the two guards behind the piggy man awakened from their dumb slumber as they heard the odd childish voice. Suddenly all were silent except for Fraz who broke the wind out of excitement.

For some moment the paymaster simply stared and tried to spy on Tidblits face but he didn´t remove his cloak a bit in order for him to see anything of his features. He knew he didn´t need to. Indeed, the paymaster sent the two guards away soon enough. The guards looked puzzled after been asked to leave, but soon they stumbled to the chilly night and closed the door to the paymaster's room behind them. After a small moment of silence the paymaster himself rose and let the trio inside the castle itself.

They were left on a small and empty guard room and asked to wait. Rows of halberds and tabards on the kings blue colors surrounded the trio and patiently they waited for something to appear. Fraz started to sing some song about working in the fields and therefore a loud smack pierced the silent room as Tidblit expressed his opinion on Fraz´s song. Soon everything went silent again.

After some time two guards entered the room and carried between them a small, wriggling figure which fought desperately against its captors. Behind them came a man who also wore cloak to hide his features. It seemed that the paymaster had returned to his station via some other route as he was nowhere to be seen. The cloaked man nodded to the trio of mercenaries and simply said: "You know what to do."

"Yes, my lord" Tidblit answered as no words were needed for their task. All was agreed on before by their mutual contact named simply as Hugo. Even Fraz and Skinny seemed to know what they needed to do.

Fraz took the bundle from the guards and lifted the struggling blanket to his shoulders easily. Skinny opened an empty apple box that was waiting for them inside the room and they put the wriggling bundle inside. After this they put the lid on. Then Skinny and Fraz lifted the crate and started to head back towards the cart. Tidblit followed them closely but didn´t remove his sight from the cloaked figure which had come to see their proceedings. The man could have been Hugo himself, but Tidblit didn´t care. They still had work to do and they would see it done. Silently the mercenaries slipped back to the courtyard and vanished into the night.

**The Lyon forest near the Castle of Couronne (85 years ago)**

It was still dark when the three bandits reached the border of Lyon forest with their quarry. Sun would be rising soon, but for now, the darkness kept its secrets hidden ahead. Eerie looking forest welcomed them almost too eagerly. Dark branches curved over the small muddy road which soon swallowed the incoming travellers.

This ancient forest had been sitting nearby the village of Amyen for centuries and even though it wasn´t as massive as the legendary forest of Arden, it still dominated the surroundings. Tidblit, Fraz and Skinny slowly continued their travel further into the forest through an unoccupied track and they silently moved for several miles inside the woodland before they finally stopped.

Tilly sighed loudly out of relief as he realised that the most dangerous part of their little task had ended. The guards had not noticed a thing as they had travelled through the castle gates with their little box on the cart. All had been arranged as promised by the mysterious "Hugo". Now only small work was needed and they would all be rich… well, perhaps not all of them.

Tidblit quickly checked his pistols so that his tools would be ready after their work. Poor Fraz and Skinny would not get their share, even though they had been helpful in a way. For him it was no wonder that Hugo had asked for his services as the man clearly couldn´t trust the peasants to do mens work. Tidblit still had to admit to himself that the guard's wouldn´t probably have believed him to be an apple-seller. That´s why it was good to use Skinny and Fraz as cover. He would certainly miss them dearly after all this… yeah right!

Tidblit had been careful and chosen to move as far into the forest as he could before the morning would rise. He had told his partners of crime that they would kill their victim and bury him deep. His assistants wouldn´t have a clue to whom that pit would be actually dug for… After their burial Tidblits would escort their captive to the mysterious Hugo and receive tremendous payment, as was planned. Sometimes he just had to admit to himself that he was a clever little Halfling. After he was assured of his criminal brilliance, Tidblits jumped off the cart and ordered Skinny and Fraz to work:

"Hurry on! Let´s move further inside the forest and finish our task, shall we?" He beckoned and disappeared between the surrounding massive trees which reminded him of some dark temple poles. Huge trees erupted from both sides of the muddy road and it didn´t take too long for him to vanish from sight of his men. Tidblit smiled a little as he realised that a dark temple pole was a good comparison… soon blood would indeed spill within!

After a while the mercenary stopped into an opening which would suffice as graveyard for his purposes. Skinny had said that he knew a good spot in the forest for burying bodies and Tidblit was glad that he had… nobody would ever find their bodies from here; that was sure.

Behind him the halfling listened as his henchmen started to pile their tools for digging. Soon all this would be over and with a smile the mercenary lit his old dwarven pipe as he waited for his henchmen to arrive. Soon powerful blend of the mountain folks finest filled his lungs and he savoured the taste that was playing within his mouth.

Tidblits euphoria didn´t last for long however, as suddenly a loud, booming voice echoed on the road: "_Morning, gentlemen!_"

Tidblit stopped immediately his enjoyment of the tobacco and stiffened for a while. The sound seemed to come from inside his own head… was he becoming mad?

"_I know what you have with you… and its mine now!"_

All hell broke loose and Tidblit could hear something charging through the forest towards their cart! Skinny and Fraz appeared to give up quickly:

"Boss, help uss!" Skinny screamed and seemed to start running.

Tidblit cursed and started to run back to the cart as he understood that the haunting voice was in fact very real. Soon he could hear Fraz screaming out of horror:

"NO NO NO, I wanna go home! "

"Go away ye! Please, no!" Skinny begged from someone. Tidblit wondered that who on earth could have managed to track them… had Hugo perhaps betrayed them? That seemed to be the only solution. Tidblit unhooked his pistols as he run, but soon stumbled on a tree stump and fell over the muddy ground.

After that there came a sound of slashing metal and poor Fraz screamed in agony like a bear before the final thrust of a spear. His agony was reverberating from tree to tree and seemed to continue forever. The simple brute kept on screaming as Tidblit finally entered the road again and saw what was among them.

It seemed that a lone knight had decided to take their captive from them. And not just any knight, it seemed. This knight was covered on black armour alone. No heraldry, no emblems… just a gigantic man riding a midnight dark horse, who had somehow heard of their little task.

Fraz had been split through the midsection by the charging knight's sword and the upper half of him desperately plead for help from his leader. Tidblit knew that a bullet to the head would be the only solution to Fraz miseries, but that would have to wait for now…

The Halfling ignored his bleeding partner and turned to face their attacker, who had decided to charge down on poor Skinny next. A gigantic hunting spear produced out of Skinny´s chest as the knight's charge carried him to his fleeing victim. The owl-like eyes glinted for the last time and Skinny went down without a sound. The monstrous knight rode beside the small body and jerked the spear off, even as he turned back towards the Halfling.

Calmly Tilly raised one of his pistols and fired. The first shot missed its mark, but the Halfling had six pistols in total and the second bullet finally burrowed inside the knights chest with a clang. The mercenary was anticipating that the knight would fall of his horse quite soon. To Tidblits horror he however noticed something:

The knight kept on coming… against all reasons!

Tilly shot again and yet another bullet found its mark on the chest of the black knight. Now it would have to be dead, right?

Still the knight kept on coming and the bloody hunting spear once again lowered towards its target.

Tidblit would only have time for one more shot…. and he knew what to aim next. Rising the pistol he fired towards the riders head… and managed a direct hit!

The knight however didn´t slow his speed but instead tried to skewer the mercenary. Luckily Tidblit was tiny and managed to surge out of the harm's way on time.

Quickly the small mercenary rose up and was faced by an enormous knight who had decided to leave his steed behind and was now slowly walking towards the Halfling. The knight didn´t even draw his sword but walked casually towards him!

Tidblit had only two shots left and he fired simultaneously out of frustration towards his attacker. One of the bullets hit on the knights chest yet again and another missed… yet the black knight kept on walking.

The mercenary wanted to flee but somehow he knew it was for nought… this was a foe that even the mighty Tidblit could not defeat and he would take his life. He felt complete anger and frustration as he now saw the reddish eyes within black helmet, which were getting closer all the time.

"What are you?! Why can´t you just die?!" Tidblit screamed to the imposing figure.

The knight said nothing but stopped in front of him. Tidblits felt frustrated as he addressed the black figure again:

"Tell me even why! Why do you have to? What is there for you to gain? Glory? Money?!"

_"__EVERYTHING" _The giant replied and grapped the halflings head into one of his fists. The knight lifted the screaming figure above the ground easily. Tidblit instinctively hold onto the knight's arm and did his best in order to pull himself free of his torment. He tried to kick his attacker but was too far away and small legs kept hitting the air only.

Silently the knight kept on adding pressure on Tidblit´s head, which started to burst from the powerful grip. The knight´s booming laughter echoed in the forest alongside the screams of the small mercenary. After some torturous moments the knight finally was satisfied of his work as Tidblit´s tiny head was brutally crushed within his metallic grip and the remaining body fell to the muddy ground.

The knight walked towards the cart and opened the small box. A sack that had wriggled stopped as he lifted it to the ground. Raising a massive sword, the knight cut the sack open to reveal its contents to the world.

A small boy with vibrant blue eyes watched at his rescuer with frightened eyes. His mouth had been tied shut and almost carefully the knight removed the cloth from the boy's face, who coughed as the cold morning air filled his lungs. Silently and carefully the boy asked from the knight:

"Did my father send you? Are you here to save me?"

The knight sheathed his sword and rose to full height before the boy, who now noticed that his hands and feet were still bound by ropes. Somehow the small boy knew the answer even before the knight delivered it to him:

_"__No, I´m not here to save you. But I`ll teach you…"_

The boy started to tremble as the knight took a step closer to him. Without saying a word the knight started to remove his helmet. Now his new captive started to cry and yelled:

"No… I know you! Don´t kill me! Please!"

The boy seemed to have heard the tale of the Black Knight before and knew what the removal of helmet meant. Soon he would see the face of death himself and desperately tried to free his arms from the ropes but in vain.

_"__Why are you afraid, boy? As I said I´m here to teach you something… and it´s rude that you don´t listen!"_ The knight intimidated the boy and watched as his battle over the ropes intensified a thousand fold as he slowly moved closer…

The knight's helmet lift off and the boy quickly shut his eyes so that he wouldn´t have to see. The knight lifted the boy up and soon the poor thing could feel the dark presence of something radiating on his young face. Desperately the boy tried to plead for mercy:

"Please, sir… no! Don´t kill me!"

_"__Your father killed you long before I came in, Joaquis…"_ The knight replied.

The boy stupidly opened his eyes as he heard his name spoken and realised with horror that he now faced the knight…

Booming laughter and the screams of the child intermingled into an echo that night which pierced the heavens and sent all the ravens away from the Lyon forest.


	2. (Dr Leitbergs Diary 1)

_Day 61 _

_Dear diary,_

_With most delight I may finally inform you that we arrived to Zawiri today. After months of travel it´s hard to be sure which day of our journey this is, but luckily I have you to tell me!_

_Where was I… yes, unfortunately there has been a couple of days when I haven´t been able to update our journey, as we have been busy escaping some local ogre tribes who wanted to kill us for trespassing on their lands (side note: Ogre physique might be an interesting topic for closer studies, as they accelerate to amazing speeds when hungry). Indeed, there has been some problems on our journey. Quite much, actually…_

_After crossing the sea to Araby all our travelling has been, well, complicated. Even though we travelled through the Nehekharan deserts and thus avoided the orc-infested Badlands, there still were casualties. In fact several brave men from our group died (most of them while crossing the kingdom of the dead as locals call the plains of Nehekhara), but at least they all died for a great cause, for what is better reason for heroic sacrifice than knowledge? I´m most certain that my colleagues also would appreciate the possibility to join the food circle and return to the nature one day… oh, nevermind._

_May Morr keep educated company for Hans and Morty alongside our hirelings and hopefully he´ll let them tell about their studies regarding the patterns on skies and ancient scriptures (especially Mr. Bazire´s studies on the elven language). I miss our educated discussion severely and hope that it may continue in some form when my time comes… but, now some good news might suffice!_

_As said, we now finally reside upon the very place of legends. Outside my hut I can see the jungles of the lost civilisation of Paxhua… if Dr. Zuickers theories are to be believed, that is. We are quite literally in the middle of Southlands and lucky for us these local tribesmen, which we found after fleeing the desert ogres, eat apes instead of humans (side note: that proves Herr Mignolli´s former theories incorrect – something to remember when I return) and we have been given shelter in their village. _

_According to Mister Hapsburg we are save for now. The young adventurer keeps me in good shape and one could find this remarkable, especially if you know how rude this man is to me. I conclude that he takes care of my safety mostly because I´m the only one who can properly read ancient texts now. I have to admit to myself that even though I especially miss my fellow scholars, I still love the fact that now, if we do find the temples of Paxhua, I´m able to get all the glory. Of course I intend to mention the sacrifice of my fellows, but only after I have finished my book upon this subject (another side note: remember to address Hans´s and Mortimers´s families somehow). _

_Besides me and the young mister, there are only five people left in our research group: our local guide Ziwi accompanied us just recently and besides him we have Max (who still thinks that the people of Paxhua are in fact of reptilian origin!), Mina, Roberto and Friedrich. Mina and Max have promised to help me on my work and hopefully Roberto and Friedrich help Mister Hapsburg to keep us safe. _

_We probably hire some locals from this village and enter further into the jungles tomorrow. __These are exciting times, of that I´m sure!_

(An extract from Dr. Franz Leitbergs diary, circa: year 2502. Current location: The Vault of Altdorf Museum)


	3. 2 Ghosts of the Past (1)

**The House of Quifford, Quenelles (year 2522)**

The world was burning. Everywhere the hungry flickers of flame consumed more and more and the entire landscape reminded more of a blazing inferno. The kingdom of Bretonnia was slowly dying as it´s terrain caught fire and blazed away. An ancient and beautiful forest near the region of Quinelles had thus become a place for nightmares. Trees crashed all around as they blackened on the fiery fires and gave up their faint struggles against the inevitable. Heat was so overwhelming that it melted the skin and burned lungs into cinder. Even the ancient rocks and ruins within the forest melted as the reddish hell consumed it…

Yet there he was. Once again.

Sorel sprinted through the hellish landscape where enemies seemed to appear out of nowhere. The young knight was wearing full armour, but somehow managed to keep his speed fast enough so that the fires couldn´t quite reach him. His progression through the inferno was a miracle, as he had no steed to carry him through the vile terrain.

Soon an enemy form appeared from the flames to block his path. This one had curved horns and it´s bestial face grinned as it tried to hack at him using an axe. Sorel parried the blow with his shield easily and plunged his sword straight into the beast's eyes. It screamed terribly and trashed into the burning ground.

Sorel simply ran past the beast. He had to continue. He had no time for a pause, no time for a triumph over defeated foe. He had a good reason to hurry as the young knight was not running to merely safe himself from the flames or slay his foes. Somewhere a woman was screaming for her life and the echo of her pain caused physical torture within Sorel´s brain. He had to push on forward… for there was no one else but he, who could help the poor woman.

"Mother!" Sorel screamed and decapitated a mutant whose tentacles slapped against his green and yellow labeled shield, contaminating it on some while ooze. The white unicorn which adored his shield seemed to shake off the foul liquid, for soon the shield was as good as new. Small droplets of goo however found their mark on Sorel´s hand and sizzled as they ate away some of his skin.

It didn't matter… not if he could reach her on time!

Suddenly a voice called for the young knight: "Sorel!"

Sorel stopped on his heels. He saw a figure emerging from the flames that walked towards him slowly. This one didn´t have sharp horns or bestial face… on the contrary, it was a maiden! A woman who was wearing white robes walked towards him. Flames seemed to die out as she walked through them.

"Mother!" Sorel screamed as he started to run towards the figure once again. Slowly but surely he was getting closer and closer… but then the knight´s enemies came.

Sorel used his shield as a club and knocked one bestial figure away, even as he struck a smaller fiend with his sword. The poor devil tried to parry using it´s spear shaft, but it was no match for Bretonnian steel. The small monster was cut on two, yet Sorel was already past it when the beast's upper torso hit the ground.

Now he could saw his mother clearly. The serene face of her was close by, quietly calling his name: "Sorel, come to me…. come to me, my child!"

Then it happened. The black clouds came.

Suddenly a storm surrounded Sorel and his mother. The young knight cast away his shield and sword and ran as fast as he could towards her. Finally Sorel reached for her mother's arm and grapped her hands tightly into his. They were together at last!

The storm razed around them fiercely and became stronger as time passed. It felt that they held each other's arms for thousands of years or even longer. The sound was deafening and they couldn´t talk to each other. Yet much passed between them… the love of a mother to a child and the deep fear of what would become of them both. The child´s feeling of hopelessness and inadequacy in front of one´s own mother. And many more…

Sorel tried as hard as he could to hold on to her but his muscles started to lose their strength… he was just too tired. He prayed for the Undying Lady for strength. She had to help him! He would do anything in return... yet his grip loosened and no help appeared. Finally he just couldn´t hold her anymore…

His mother lifted from the ground and Sorel could see her horrified face one more time before she flew into the maelstrom and vanished from sight!

His mother's screams didn´t fade alongside her body, but became stronger and stronger all the time. The pain and torment of her had just begun and Sorel could hear every agonized scream within his skull. Tears flowed inside the knight's helmet as he simply stared into the sky and cried the loss of his mother.

_He was no knight… He had failed... He was worthless…_

Then Sorel saw the creatures face who mocked him. The Marked One… a creature of pure darkness who laughed even as it forced Sorel into the ground.

Sorel had already defeated several of his enemies easily but now he silently watched as the horned beast lifted a branding iron out of nowhere. He tried to resist the beast and rise from the ground but the burning eyes of his enemy where too much for him… he simply had to stare those empty eye sockets and obey the monsters whims. The black skin of his tormentor covered the flames surrounding them both as it blocked his view when it bent closer to his face.

Soon reddishly glowing iron was in front of his eyes and it slowly touched his right cheek. Sorel screamed from the bottom of his lungs and the young knight´s screams mixed into those of his mothers. Together they screamed at the hands of chaos. Together they screamed their hate towards all that there was, yet none heard them.

_They were worthless…_

Finally Sorel woke up, screaming.

It had only been a dream! Luckily he was in his home… he was safe! Slowly Sorel opened his eyes and checked his surroundings… yet he wasn´t lying on his bed at home. No.

Rows of barrels were standing on his right side. He was sitting on some hay, which covered the entire floor and to his right there was a door, which was closed. The huge room had no windows and the whole place seemed damp somehow. One could easily notice the glow of water running slowly over the rocks on the far wall. His arms ached and when he tried to move them, nothing happened. Suddenly Sorel realized with horror that he was locked into a wine cellar!

He was a prisoner.

Indeed, this was his family keep and his very own brother had imprisoned him….

How long had he been prisoner? A week? A month? Even a year? He had no guess. He only knew that guards gave him food twice a day and that was all that was expected to happen during his stay at the cellars.

Suddenly his right cheek itched a little. It always did after that same nightmare. Sorel brushed his cheek against his right arm which was locked upwards and therefore provided a good scrubbing tool. Sorel´s black hair had grown into a steady bush above his head and he had a beard, which he had never thought even possible at such a young age.

"Ah, I thought that I heard some voices from here…" said an old voice from his left and soon after the door to the cellar opened quietly.

Sorel glanced to his left where he saw an old man standing in the opened doorway. He had to watch him closely as the cellar was pitch black. His visitor was dressed in a dark robe which covered his features almost totally. His voice seemed familiar but Sorel could not recognize him without some light. He had not been given a lantern to this makeshift cell as the guards didn´t want to give him an opportunity to set ablaze the whole mansion.

He most certainly would have done it, if given the opportunity…

"Sorel… are you ok?" The old man asked again. This time he stepped closer to him.

The guards had enjoyed for the opportunity to imprison a noble, whom they greatly despised, and just yesterday they had struck Sorel to his head. The heavy chains which he was bound by had given him little space to avoid the blow. He was only allowed to sit in an unpleasant position on the floor with his hands tied above his head into the wall. It was no wonder that he had fallen unconscious after the blow and seen that nightmare again… it always came back to haunt him. Sorel wondered if his past would ever give him peace, but knew that most probably it would not… and his imprisonment was a good reminder of all this.

A light from a small lantern covered his face and he felt irritated, as he saw a glimpse of his visitor. Finally he addressed his guest:

"Yes? What great punishment awaits me now, chamberlain Arwec? Did you come here to deliver it yourself?!"

"Hush, my boy! Please… I beg you, my liege! Please listen to me for a moment." The elder begged and finally Sorel could saw his face in the lantern´s glow. The grey hair of his was perfectly combed, even though only small strands of it remained on the somewhat round face. Elegant small beard had been formed almost into a shape of a shield. The chamberlain's curious brown eyes pierced the room and somehow the man seemed to have the look of a kind teacher and not the devil that he was…

Yet Sorel noticed something that had changed since the last time he had seen his grinning face. Stress had left its marks on the chamberlain of the house of Quifford and he looked slightly horrified.

Arwec had served his family for several decades and was like a family member… or had been before all this madness. When his brother had imprisoned him, the chamberlain had done nothing to save him. In fact the man visited him now for the first time since his capture! Sorel wanted to strangle the old man right there on the spot, but he had to admit, that the worry on the man´s face got him interested.

"Speak then, vermin!" He answered and was slightly surprised when Arwec picked up a small chair from the corner of the cellar and sat beside him.

"I´m so sorry for your fate, my lord… I tried to reason with your brother, but alas he was stubborn on the matter and…"

"Shut up, and get into the point!" Sorel barked. He wanted to know what would happen next. Somehow he was sure that it would not be anything pleasant…

"Uhm, yes. After your brother… er… lost his mind and threw you into this dungeon, a lot has happened… perhaps too much."

"What do you mean?"

"Er… these weeks that you have been here has been kind of harsh on the outside of our keep too." The old man seemed to avoid Sorel´s gaze when he said that.

"You mean the civil war? Is it true?" Sorel asked with eagerness. His guards had not told him anything but he had overhead them boasting about how safe they were inside the keep and concluded that something big happened on the outside.

"Yes, my boy… it is. And that has generated some big worries for us two."

"Arwec, there´s no us… I sincerely hope that king Leoconcour shall ride here and separate your treacherous head from your body!" Sorel stated.

Arwec could have killed the young knight easily, but instead of drawing a knife at the insult he stepped to the wine barrels beside Sorel. Next the old chamberlain poured some wine into a small cup that he brought up from his robes. He returned to stand beside his captive and raised the cup to Sorel´s lips.

"Poison? A fitting way to murder… for a snake." Sorel stated but could not refuse the sweet liquid as it was poured down his throat. It tasted good after drinking the poor ale that only the servants were usually allowed to drink.

"I hope that one day you realize, what happened today, young Sorel." Arwec sighed and stopped pouring the wine as the cup emptied. He sat back on the small chair.

"What happens today, then?"

"I offer you freedom… if you trust me."

Sorel burst into laughter at the proposition. The chamberlain had gone mad!

"Why should I trust you? After all you have done?"

Arwec simply stared at Sorel for a moment and suddenly asked:

"Do you remember how you and your brother had sword fights when you were young? With those wooden daggers?"

"Yes I do, but I can´t see how this relates to anything?"

"Well… to my old eyes your brother's harsh actions after the passing of your father seemed to be nothing more than a repeat from your past fights. I honestly thought that he could be persuaded to release you and you two could become friends again. That´s why I didn´t come here before, Sorel. I was sure that he would see the truth about his actions and grow into a better man…"

Sorel watched the chamberlain's eyes as they seemed to cherish some old memories. The man clearly was speaking the truth as his eyes glinted out of emotions. Sorel had always thought that the man had been against him during his endeavors, but he had to admit that he seemed to be speaking the truth regarding the two boys.

"What happened then? Where´s my brother?" Sorel asked as he started to feel slightly guilty for insulting the old man.

Arwec sighed loudly before he came closer to whisper it to him:

"You see, Sorel… Barduk chose to ally with Malleubaude. He is currently joining our forces with those of the Usurper!"

Sorel couldn´t believe what he had just heard. No, it was not possible! Their family name would be ruined forever because of his brother´s actions…

"You have to do something!" Sorel shouted and tried to release his shackles but couldn't do more than jingle the chains slowly despite his efforts.

"I am… I´m releasing you. Hopefully you manage to get past your brothers troops and join the king´s side. His majesty´s forces are currently battling against the forces of Quinelles only a few miles away."

"Ok, then… release me! I also need my horse and armour."

"There´s one problem, Sorel… I can´t release you now." The chamberlain said with sadness all over his face.

"What!? Why not?" The young knight almost screamed but suddenly he realized why the steward had come here alone at night:

"Who is in charge of our family keep?"

"Er… he is… some sort of shady man. He is loyal to Malleubaude. After he arrived I started to feel worried for you in the first place."

"A shady man? Does he know that I´m here?"

"No, my liege! I paid for the guards and they have not told him. That´s why they led me see you tonight too. Our new master mostly keeps to himself and spends his time in your library. However I don´t trust the man´s kindness and that´s why I feel great urge to set you free. It must be the mask…"

"A mask?" Sorel asked in distaste. What kind of a man hides his face?

"Yes, he wears a mask… don´t ask. I honestly don´t know!" Arwec answered, as he seemed to spot Sorel´s reaction.

Sorel thought about what he had heard for a moment. He needed to act fast and all preparations had to be made in secret:

"How much do you need time for the preparations, Arwec?"

"Tomorrow you must flee from here. I´ll arrange everything. I only ask you to trust me on this."

"If you come tomorrow and open my chains, I´ll arrange the rest." Sorel promised.

"There is one thing that I probably can´t arrange for you…"

"What?"

"Your father´s sword… your brother envied it but didn´t want to take it with him as he left. He transferred it to his study in the library. I don´t dare enter that room when the odd man is occupying it! I also need your promise that you don´t try to retrieve it tomorrow night… do you promise?"

"I do…"

"Good… I´ll come back tomorrow night then!" the old chamberlain stated and rose to leave but before he reached the door, he turned back to address the knight: "Sorel… there is perhaps one person who might help you on this."

"Who? And how?"

"Renaldo… you probably remember him, albeit slightly. He and you played together when your brother´s were trained to battle and ride. That was years ago… during the good times. He served as my bodyguard and servant before your brother forced him into farming. You have seen him sometimes with me, but I understand that you probably don´t remember the faces of the servants that well. He would gladly leave with you… and I would gladly offer him better place than this. He always was loyal to me and I swear he shall be the same to you! If you so decide?"

Sorel thought about it for a moment, but soon agreed that he would certainly need some help on his escape and especially after they would manage to leave his family estates. There might be many enemies between the young knight and his King and Sorel thus agreed that Renaldo might accompany him.

"Good! He´ll see you tomorrow night then!" Arwec stated as he disappeared into the dark hallway.


	4. 2 Ghosts of the Past (2)

The wait for the next night was long and Sorel´s mind was constantly worrying about what happened above his head in the main building. He could hear some daily-life noises from upstairs but it didn´t ease his worries at all. There were many things which might go wrong before he would get released from his bonds, and all these possibilities conspired against his mind all the time.

What if Arwec had been followed yesterday and caught already? What if the mysterious man would suddenly decide to enter the basement? Sorel seriously doubted that his brother´s men would protect him if the new master of his family home would decide to kill him. There was simply no way of telling if Arwec could be even trusted or if Renaldo might be useful in his escape plan at all… the man-at-arm of Arwec could indeed be the end of them both if he would panic on their way out of the castle. It all seemed so frustratingly uncertain…

Sorel sighed loudly, as if it would hush away his doubts which had gotten stronger ever since the chamberlain had closed the door and left him alone.

After some time of boredom Sorel decided that he would really need all the blessings that he could get and decided to pray for the Undying Lady. Hopefully She could give him strength of will so that there would be no room for doubts any more. Somehow the thought of committing a prayer calmed him and he worried little less about the events yet unfolding before him. The Lady had a way to calm the hearts of her knights and Sorel really felt that he needed her blessing… yet he suddenly hesitated as he was prepared to close his eyes.

The truth was that She had not been always there for him… in fact the last time that he had prayed like this had been in vain. He had not managed to help his mother all those years ago, even while begging for help so why would She help him this time? Perhaps his failure as a knight then had caused all this and in reality he was responsible for his brother´s actions too… The thought horrified him and filled him with sorrow. Was he the reason for all this? Could it be?

Sorel had to admit to himself that he never had been a too religious person. His father had been so fiery in his love for the Lady, that Sorel had thought that perhaps he had believed for the both of them. Obviously he had some faith for Her but not perhaps as much as he should have. Somehow the young knight was sure that his father had died chanting the Lady´s blessing from his lips, like a true hero. He had perhaps been something that Sorel could never be… a true champion of the Lady.

There was only one way to find out if She cared about him and his fate and Sorel prepared to ask it out himself.

Usually the young knight would have kneeled and placed his hands over the hilt of his sword, as was the proper way to pray, but due to circumstances he only managed to close his eyes. For a little while he forgot where he was and his mind was filled with a vision from his childhood:

_All the men of Quifford were present on the great hall. Usually the room was filled with servants and visitors, but not this time. Every evening their father insisted Sorel and his brothers to attend a praying circle where he guided all his boys towards the proper blessings. The young knights of Quifford line prayed before the paintings of their ancestors and the banners of past victories. Their mutually whispered prayers filled the entire room and they were careful not to fail on their litanies. Their father guided them on this task and smacked them if they failed to say the words correctly. Together their prayers became strong and Sorel could feel the might that the chanting created into his heart…_

The thought of them all together helped Sorel to get into a calm mood which was important before he addressed his Goddess. She would pay no heed if he wouldn´t take this prayer seriously… especially today. Words started to pour out from his mouth silently but steadily:

"My Lady… heed thy knight. I´m uncertain of myself and of my path… if there even is a path for me? Lots have happened and some of it… creates doubt into my heart. I only ask for the possibility to serve Thee as a knight. If I cannot accomplish this, then there´s nothing for me anymore. Before my ancestors and my family I humbly pray and ask for your blessing… although I´m not certain if I have deserved one."

Slowly Sorel opened his eyes and searched for his surroundings, but it all looked the same. He was not sure if he really even expected something to happen, but still felt betrayed as nothing had. His wrists were still manacled into the wall and he continued to lay on the floor of his family home´s basement. No mystical apparitions had come for his aid, nor did he feel too comfortable within. It almost felt worse as he was now sure that he was the only one who he could trust… not even his deity would help him now.

Sorel sighed and silently watched at the door, waiting for it to open. This would be a long night…

When the door finally opened, Sorel had already fallen asleep. A dark figure moved next to his slumbering frame and silently whispered into his ear:

"Master? Wake up, it´s time to leave!"

Sorel quickly opened his eyes and was surprised to see that Arwec had not come to help him… instead his rescuer seemed to be a lot younger than the chamberlain. Sorel seemed to look surprised as the stranger then added:

"It´s me, master Sorel… Renaldo!"

"Renaldo? I see… can you open these locks?"

"Surely sire, I have the keys." Renaldo added and started to unlock his chains from the wall. Sorel´s sore hands finally lowered and he winced when they moved to his sides. Somehow he had not even realized how numb his arms had become.

"Ahh, it feels good to move again!" The young knight sighed as he slowly rose up.

Renaldo removed his back bag and handed Sorel a small shield and a sword. For a moment the knight watched at the gear which was handed to him and almost started to protest, but luckily Renaldo saw his look:

"They are from the guards that I took out… there´s no time to complain about it, as I couldn´t have sneaked past them with your full armour at my back, eyh?"

"And what about my own gear?"

"Everything is packed up at the stables, sire. We´re ready for a quick leave as you wished."

Sorel swung his newly acquired sword in the air for once and seemed to like what he felt. He then quickly took hold of the small shield and soon the men left from Sorel´s makeshift dungeon. On their way out Sorel saw that a couple of guards had been taken out by his rescuer and was pleased about his decision to include the servant… he clearly had fought before!

Silently the two men rose the steps to the mansion and entered the main room from the left side. The cellars odd entrance via the throne room was due to Sorel´s father and his forefather´s habit for good elven wine.

Sorel stopped at the doorway and quickly glanced through the huge room. There were two guards, but luckily the first had tasted some of Quifford´s cheaper wines and slumbered on the throne! The second man seemed to be drunk too but at least he managed to wander through the doorway which led to the south of the house.

Sorel decided quickly to move past the guards unseen. He held no love for his brother´s men but he thought that slipping away was the best course of action this time, as he had no idea how many men were guarding the place. He turned back to Renaldo and explained what he intended to do.

"We must get past those guards without being seen, so let´s move silently and quickly." Sorel put down his sword as if to address his point.

"As you wish, Sire!" Renaldo whispered and soon both of them were creeping through the huge throne room.

Sorel´s ancestors or actually their pictures all around the huge room eyed the young knight as he crept like a thief inside his own home. Sorel met each of their gazes in turn and sincerely hoped to return to his home one day. Yet he was quite sure that it would not happen anymore, which made him sad a little. Hopefully he could reunite with his ancestors one day with pride…"

"Guard!" Renaldo hushed and both of the men moved to stand at the corner of the doorway which led to the main hall. The guard which had wandered nearby was making faces to Sorel´s late uncle Francois´s portrait in the hallway and therefore the two men managed to move past the drunken guard.

Sorel thanked Arwec for arranging their escape this late, because the lanterns of the guards created many shady places for the two men to hide as the guards passed. They would have never managed to get past the men in the brightest moonlight.

Finally the two men stopped at the doors which lead into the library. The front door of the mansion was directly ahead of them and only one guard was on their way. Now it was Sorel´s time to choose which he wanted more: his freedom or his father's sword.

"Time to move, Sire!" Renaldo whispered and prepared to run straight through the main door, but Sorel stopped him before the servant managed to dart ahead:

"No! My father´s sword first!"

"What? No, Sire! There´s no time for that!"

Sorel pulled Renaldo closer and said firmly so that the peasant could understand:

"My father´s sword first. No exceptions!"

Renaldo tried to continue his debate but Sorel already opened the door to the library and sneaked inside. This left no options for Renaldo who fully understood that he could not survive alone outside and even if he could, he would soon get caught and be hanged for leaving the Quifford estates without permission. So the man-at-arm sighed loudly and decided to join his stubborn new master.

Inside the library it was eerily quiet. Sorel could once again hear his breathing, which felt relieving after their short rush through the mansion.

Sorel took a few steps ahead and almost jumped into the air as the door behind him closed. Renaldo entered the room and for a while both of them listened for any hints that somebody had heard them coming… luckily that was not the case.

Sorel indicated for Renaldo that they should move very quietly from now. The library was totally dark which indicated that nobody occupied it at the moment… and because of this any noise within the room would most likely get them captured or worse.

Silently Sorel moved between the ancient shelves which held his family histories and other old memories. Their only source for lighting was the dull moonlight which entered to the room via two massive windows before them. Sorel was careful as he passed the scriptures which had never really interested him or even his father. They simply were part of the family legacy and therefore dear, but they mattered nothing to Sorel. He only wanted the sword.

Renaldo passed his master and was already at the center of the room, when he spotted something terrible: A skeleton had been raised beside one bookshelf near him. Silently Renaldo moved to look at it and tried to understand why it had been brought there.

As he moved close enough, the skeleton suddenly turned towards him and caught his wrist on its skeletal arms!

"Sorel!" Renaldo screamed and managed to get free just in time to avoid the blow as the skeleton brought its corrupted sword down with a deadly arc.

Sorel noticed with horror what happened to Renaldo and quickly responded by drawing his own sword from his belt. Their time for subtlety had gone and now it was time to fight.

Ancient and rusty sword clanged away from a poorly manufactured dagger when Renaldo managed to parry the skeleton´s next blow. The long dead warrior moved surprisingly quickly and lifted its sword to strike again, but Sorel was already there…

The young knight stabbed his sword straight through the skeletons helmet and its bones tumbled to the ground immediately.

"Sorel! Thank you, sire…"

"There´s no time for that, we have to act quickly!" Sorel barked as he started to run towards the end of the room and the possible location of the sword.

"Block the door; we need some time to think!" Sorel added.

Renaldo acted accordingly by pushing some shelves before the old oaken door.

Suddenly two skeletons awoke from their slumber to block the knight's charge, but Sorel managed to smash one into the wall and the other quickly lost its head after a short swordfight. The cumbersome dead were simply no match for Sorel who was eager to feel the thrills of battle once more. Too much time had passed since he had got the chance to smite down Bretonnia´s enemies and he embraced every aspect of the havoc he caused. It simply felt good to do something for a change!

The sound of running feet erupted from the main hall and soon the door was knocked loudly. Barduk´s men had arrived…

Sorel sprinted the last few steps to the big desk at the end of the room and managed to strike down the last skeleton from behind as it was too slow to turn against him. Sorel searched for the sword and soon the gleaming blade was in his grasp. It truly was a magnificent weapon…

Suddenly a hollow sound erupted from somewhere near Sorel:

_"__Bravo, brave knight! You have vanquished your mighty foe and now claim your prize. May I offer you my congratulations? "_

Somehow Sorel knew who was addressing him… as there was only one option.

"A man, who takes the lands of others and masks his face, I believe? A knight of Bretonnia needs no praises from someone like you!"

Sorel turned to his right and understood to his horror that a dark figure had stood there all this time. The black-glad and indeed masked man was holding something in his hands. Sorel wondered what it was but suddenly he saw it´s gleaming eyes when the moonlight hit them… it was a cat!

_"__Bold words from someone who did nothing to stop us when we took that land"_ the man stabbed and patted the cat in his hands. He walked closer but the moonlight did not reveal anything new from the stranger. His cloak was pitch black and a wine-red scarf masked his face. Sorel suddenly noticed that the man was over a head taller than he, but didn´t want to show any traces of fear.

"Better late, than never or is it not?"

_"__Indeed. You must be Barduk´s brother… although he said that you were already dead."_

"Sorry to disappoint him, but I´m very alive."

Chill laughter erupted from the dark figure as he slowly moved closer to the knight.

_"__Yes you are. Unfortunately I do not think that I should let you leave here with that sword… or actually at all."_

Sorel lifted the gleaming blade and pointed it directly towards the figure.

"No need to shake hands, so stay away. I would hate to kill an unarmed man, even though your deeds almost force me to."

_"__I´m unarmed and a man? Two mistakes in a row. The young these days…" _

There was a loud crash from the door as the men outside rammed something heavy into it. The old oak whined as it was forced inwards, but still managed to held. Renaldo moved to hold the door in place as more blows followed the first.

"Sorel, we need to hurry!" the servant stated as he was once again knocked backwards after a mighty blow.

"This is over quickly, I´m soon there!" Sorel promised but somehow felt unsure what to do. The figure that was facing him seemed not to care about his sword and had just stated that he was not unarmed either, yet Sorel saw no weapon. He was about to back away from the figure when he heard some strange language. Then he realized… it was a spell!

The man dropped the cat and pointed one of his fingers towards him. Some greenish glow started to surround the figure and ancient, dark words poured from his mouth. Sorel launched himself to the side as a greenly glowing spear extended from the hand and almost pierced him through!

The bolt of dark magic flew through the library and hit the oaken door with a loud bang. The ancient tree was no match for the unnatural explosion and Renaldo as well as the guards pounding the door were thrown away by the fiery blast!

"Do you still consider me unarmed?" The masked one asked and laughed.

Sorel rose from the dusty ground and quickly regained his feet. He then surged to stab at his foe, but this time the shady man produced a sword from his robes and easily parried the rushed blow.

"Die, fiend!" Sorel shouted and kept on raining blows towards the man who moved with such graze that he almost danced out of the way.

_"__How do you kill a dead man?" _

"What? What are you?!"

_"__Something more than you ever shall be!"_ The man shouted and stroked an overhead blow with such a force that it would have cut Sorel in two but the knight ducked just in time to move beside the stranger. Sorel grapped the man´s robes and managed to tumble him into the ground!

Sorel knew that he had not much time left. After the explosion all the men around the mansion would swarm inside and they would get caught. He needed to leave… now!

Sorel sprinted to the door and saw that Renaldo was clutching his head. He had only now realized that the door had been blown away by the sorcerer´s blast.

"Renaldo, are you ok?" He then asked and helped the servant up.

"Sorel, behind you!" was his squire´s response and Sorel turned backwards only to see that the dark figure had lost its mask…

Sorel stared at the figure in horror… it had no flesh, as only charred remains of a burned skull greeted the two men.

_"__Perhaps now is a good time to introduce myself, as we have removed our masks, so to say. I´m Arkhan the Black and your worries are now over!" _

The liche summoned once again the green glow and prepared to launch another unnatural spear towards the two men who immediately sprinted into the now burning doorway. They were just reaching the doorstep as Arwec stepped into view… holding a crossbow!

"Time to leave, boys!" The old chamberlain shouted and struck a bolt straight through the chest of the liche who flew backwards from the impact!

Alas the spell was partially cast and the unholy flames producing from the magical spear caught the old man´s robes. In an instant the chamberlain turned into ash before Sorel´s eyes… he even had no time to scream. The chamberlain had helped the boys for the last time…

"Arwec? Did he just…" Renaldo mumbled in shock.

"Yes… yes he did. We must leave now, or he died in vain."

"But…" Renaldo insisted but soon realized the wisdom in Sorel´s words.

The two men slipped back into the hallway and saw more piles of ash where the guards had been pounding the door. They stopped no more, but slammed the main doors open and slipped into the stables. There Sorel finally got his armour and the men rode through the Quifford estates. Sorel´s family home lit their path as the unnatural flames consumed the mansion. Luckily it also occupied many of the guards who did their best to preserve their safe garrison. The greenish flames however seemed to continue their roast well after Sorel and Renaldo moved into the forest nearby and vanished from sight.

"Mi lord, what are your orders? Shall I send men after them?" A terrified man-at-arm asked. Arkhan the Black was silently watching at the mansion as the flames consumed it slowly but steadily. He had managed to produce a scarf once more to mask his face and purred his cat like he was accustomed to. This time the cat however had no gleaming eyes, but dull dead orbs which were already starting to rot away. It astonished Arkhan that the cat still held on to its instincts even after its unwelcomed death. Or was he just manipulating it´s will to act that way? It seemed possible but Arkhan used no pure will to do so… oh, well it hardly mattered. It was still a cat to him, and would yet provide useful. They always would.

_"__Let him go. There are many dangers before they reach the king´s line and even if they do, it´s too late."_

"Too late for what, sire?"

_"__To the end of all things… Now, go!"_

The sergeant of Barduk´s men left the liche with a relief and Arkhan stood there through the rest of the night watching at the burning mansion. He recalled one small incident which occurred when he cast the last spell. Although the spell had not been cast at full force, he was sure that it had been aimed correctly… and something had intertwined into the magical spear just before it had hit the young knight. What had it been, he wondered? What power protected the knight so fiercely?

Well, it all matters a little when his master shall rise… and he shall.

_"__Nagash will rise" _The liche confirmed to himself as the flames continued to grow before him.


	5. (Dr Leitbergs Diary 2)

_Day 63_

_Dear diary,_

_Our journey into the jungle has begun! Mr. Hapsburg managed to hire ten local tribesmen yesterday, who now carry our baggage. Ziwi acts as their leader and spokesman, because he´s the only one around who somehow speaks reikspiel besides zawirian. Luckily he decided to join us on our adventure! I only hope that he did it because of proper payment, for one cannot be sure on men like Hapsburg… I somehow find it plausible to believe that he can be threatening, especially to the natives. Oh my!_

_Thus far we have been lucky, though and our group has managed to move quickly within the jungle. Our progress was further enhanced, as we managed to find something which resembles ancient paths! These seemed to be quite well used, because the undergrowth had not consumed them yet and we easily spotted a route beside a river. This excites me, because it most definitely points out to a settlement or at least some sort of organised movement within the jungle. All this improves my theories that the temple is here… oh, hopefully it´s true!_

_We are currently resting beside this river (I would conclude it to be the river of Aboa, if Dr. Schen´s maps are truthful) and we´ll camp here over the night. Tomorrow we continue our informative quest and I hope that we soon witness some findings which indicate that there is a settlement or at least traces of it here. _

_There have been some arguments between Ziwi and some of our carriers concerning this route but he has assured us that everything is now ok. As said, luckily he is with us!_

_Tomorrow we shall start early and move further along the path. Hopefully I´ll have something nice to tell about then!_


	6. 3 Dark Tidings (1)

**The Camp of Lord Bardouis, 20 miles from the House of Quifford**

Cold and damp air blew through the vast opening near the forest of Merille with such a force that it almost looked as if the wind tried to desperately find shelter among the ancient trees. Unfortunately, for the nature´s intentions, hundreds of brightly coloured tents stood firm and blocked the nature´s wrath. The wind howled desperately as it tried to pass through the enormous camp, but failed to reach its center where a lone tent stood.

This tent was much bigger than the rest surrounding it. There also was some room left to the sides to separate the blue and white structure from the other noble houses tents. A flag containing a red sea monster seemed to be chasing the winds above but only barely it reached its full length before the wind escaped once more and the beast stood still, as if protecting its master inside.

It was a custom for the Bretonnian lords to camp according to the importance of the house and the center was always reserved for the highest ranking knight of the army. The other tents surrounding the structure were the tents of the second highest lords and henceforth. Tired patrols of man-at-arms were slowly circling the central tent in order to protect their master while he slept. A noble was never assigned to watch duty and thus the few remaining peasants desperately tried to remain vigilant in the passing summer night.

Two of the guards stopped for a quick chat behind the tent, even though they knew that they would be lashed for their disobedience if they get caught. The men were simply too tired to remain awake without some relief and took their break when the morning was just getting up. They knew that the nobles were not awake at that time and thus the risk was small.

"Oy, Ned?" The first guard asked as he stopped and waited for his colleague to walk near.

"Rufus? HRRR… I´m so tired! I hate this!" Ned replied as he rubbed his hands together in order to make the blood flow a little better.

"Yeah… Luckily we are soon relieved. I could sleep a whole week!" Rufus replied and took one torch away from surrounding the tent. He then lowered the torch in order to help his friend, and himself, to warm in the slightly cold breeze that seemed to shake the entire camp.

"Oh, that feels like heaven…thank you! And yeah… I hope we get more sleep than the previous time. Straight into battle after overnight watch… no wonder so many of our boys are gone!"

"Yeah… I miss Mungo and Fred. They were always…"

Suddenly a black figure appeared from behind the tent and stood before the two guards, who only noticed the man when he was standing almost before them. As they noticed him, their eyes widened and they quickly moved their hands to their hilts.

Swords were drawn, but the stranger did nothing to the guards who were simply staring at the intruder before them.

Then, suddenly, the black glad man took something out of his sleeve and gave it to the astonished guards: It was a black feather.

"Oy, what´s this?" Rufus insisted, but Ned put his sword immediately back to its hilt and bowed down. He also pulled down Rufus with him before his fellow man-at-arm managed to protest this by any means. After this small struggle Ned addressed the newcomer:

"We are really sorry, Sire! We thought that we heard something and came to investigate…"

The dark figure lifted his hand slightly and indicated that he wanted Ned to stop his explanations and the peasant immediately fell silent. The stranger then approached the guards and asked from the shaking Ned:

"Do you know me, signore?" He then asked. Only now the peasants were able to detect a voice that was of foreign origin.

"Mi lord Raven, I know your… reputation."

"I find it flattering that you know me! But then you probably also know, that there´s no reason to lie…"

**Somewhere within the Forest of Merille**

Night was getting darker and darker all the time, but Sorel continued his reckless riding through the forest. His horse jumped above three trunks and passed small rivers with such agility that one could have believed that he was some sort of a forest spirit. The green robes of house Quifford danced behind the running destrier as Sorel continued his travel further into the eerie night. Renaldo did his best to follow his master but his horse could not keep up with the same pace as a fully bred Bretonnian warhorse and naturally he started to lag behind.

Soon Sorel would be out of Renaldo´s view entirely and the servant was forced to scream from the bottom of his lungs:

"Mi lord! Wait me, please! I cannot keep up…"

Sorel seemed to hear his servants request as he suddenly slowed his steed down and waited for him to catch up.

Renaldo approached his master a little warily, for he did not know what Sorel´s response would be. Basically he was dragging his lord down and usually this meant some sort of ill fate for an un-noble.

"I´m sorry, my lord! My horse has run out of feet…"

"It´s ok, Renaldo… I think that we may camp here for the rest of the night."

"It shall be done as you request, my lord!" Renaldo answered, relieved of his master's good will and jumped down of his horse in order to prepare the camp.

Sorel watched him go and remained seated in his horse, quickly checking the surrounding area while Renaldo prepared their camp. When the young night was satisfied that nobody was near, he jumped down from his horse and sat at the other side of the fire, which Renaldo was just preparing.

"Renaldo, after you have made us fire, I´ll need your help with my armour."

"Of course, my lord!"

Sorel unpacked the bundle that was sitting next to the men and revealed a helmet. Then he pulled out arm braces, and parts of body armour. Soon he was surrounded by metallic parts and Sorel started to pull up his mail shirt.

Sorel had obviously wanted to put on his armour immediately after fleeing from the house but he had known that the risk of capture was too big. Therefore the men had ridden like devils into the forest in order to get rid of their possible pursuers, but luckily none had followed them.

Sorel dearly hoped that they would now have time to equip him properly and became increasingly relieved when more and more of his armour was attached to him. Renaldo knew his work well and after a couple of moments Sorel was fully dressed as a noble in war.

After their work the men sat down and roasted some dried meat that Renaldo had provided them with. Both ate in silence yet their thoughts were the same… the fate of Arwec would perhaps never be forgotten by the two.

Finally Renaldo could not remain silent any longer and decided to speak:

"My lord, I know what troubles you… I feel quilty myself." He stated and added some wood into the fire.

"No Renaldo, you truly do not know how I feel…about everything."

"I apologize, my lord."

"No need for that… I just need time for myself."

Renaldo seemed to sense his master's hint as the servant rose and moved to prepare their tent for the night. The knight was finally alone with his thoughts.

Sorel stood still and looked into the flames as if expecting for them to feel sorry for him, or reveal something groundbreaking. Patiently he waited until the memories of his past returned and he saw a glimpse of terror in the flickering flames. A mocking sound laughed within the cinders and taunted for him to follow… but it died out when he recalled the words that he now so desperately wanted to hear:

_See behind the stars, defeat the evil ones and awoke the ancient times…_

Renaldo watched afar at his master who seemed to mumble some litany. He had prepared their tent and was about to approach Sorel but decided to remain where he was. He knew that one should not interrupt a knight while he was praying, yet that seemed to be something else that Sorel was doing. Renaldo gazed silently at Sorel as the flames cast deep shadows into his features and understood finally which was wrong when Sorel lifted his gaze to match his own:

He felt dread.

**The Camp of Lord Bardouis, 20 miles from the House of Quifford**

Maximilian of the house of Bardouis was dressing up urgently. His servants quickly added plate armour parts to their lord and one servant shaved and waxed his small beard and tiny mustache while trying to evade the armour dressers. The Baron was reading a parchment and kept on checking the seal of the letter as if expecting it to vanish somehow.

"How can this be?" He murmured, yet his servants paid no heed for any interruptions. Soon one of the Barons of L´Anquille was fully dressed in his armour and regalia. The servants barely managed to bow before their lord stormed out of his sleeping quarters and into the main part of the tent.

The Baron noticed that his faithful man-at-arms, Roland, stood still guarding the main entrance as usual. Next to him, however there was someone that could be classified as unusual… A man totally garbed in dark clothes with a sharp beard and long mustache. If one could describe the man's piercing gaze and fiendish features in a simple way, it might be best to describe him as some sort of a bird of prey. Not only that, but the man seemed to have somewhat darker skin and outlandish clothes… a foreigner?

The Baron had no patience for courtesy at this time of the night, especially when the stranger had demanded for him to awake and see him, but he regained his temper just before he opened his mouth to speak:

"I´m Baron Maximilian of the house of Bardouis; whom may I serve?"

"Ah, Baron, I´m delighted to see you in person! You may call me simply as the Raven. I´m his Majesty´s humble Huntsmaster."

Maximilian was somewhat shocked to hear the foreign accent which confirmed his suspicions about the origins of the man in his tent. From Tilea or Estalia…

"Sir …Raven? Well, may I enquire what is the matter that our Majesty is so eager to share with his humble subject, regarding… hunting matters?"

Raven laughed and started to wander within the tent, looking at nothing and everything at the same time. He stopped to see a map which indicated the battle line of Bretonnian troops in Quenelles.

"Pardon me, sir Raven, but that is not something for a huntsman to see." The Baron barked and immediately Roland left his post near the entrance to remove the man from viewing the secret plans.

"I came not in hunting matters." The Raven replied, without turning to address neither the Baron nor his guard.

"What then?"

"Send your guard away and I´ll tell you, signore."

The Baron did not say anything, but once again produced the parchment before his very eyes… he wanted to be sure of the sigil.

"Signore, do you question my authority?"

"You came here in the middle of the night, your wardrobe reminds me of eastern assassins and you ask me to send my guard away… you might draw such a conclusion, yes."

"You are without a doubt a warrior and not a diplomat, signore!"

The Raven chuckled and approached the Baron in order to hand shake. Almost refusingly Maximilian allowed this to happen and the stranger seemed satisfied.

"No need to worry, Baron. Roland can stay if you please, but all these matters are confidentalé, if you know what I mean?"

"I do… but wait, who told you my servant's name?" The Baron asked, when he seated behind his working desk.

"No one, signore."

"But…"

"Please, let me tell you what I know." The Raven said and sat down opposite the Bretonnian lord, uninvited.

The Baron looked at his servant and indicated that he could leave them. As Roland got out, the Baron asked for wine and a serving girl soon poured some for the both of them before she too left them alone.

"Now, you may speak."

"Thank you, Signore. You do not seem to know that I also help my lord by other means…"

"Hmph… I have heard some rumours, but I have not believed them. I guess I should have." The Baron dramatized his response by drinking the whole wine cup in one swing.

"Yes… not all rumours are lies, even when they are not, perhaps, suitable."

"So, I´m not talking about hunting matters to a Huntsmaster, so I must be talking about spying matters with a Spymaster?"

"Something like that, yes. There is one urgent matter that I would like you to address."

The Baron filled his cup and took another full swing before asking:

"What might this be?"

The Raven indicated that his cup needed filling and after the Baron had poured some wine for him too, he continued:

"A young knight is approaching your camp in the dark. I would like you to arrest him for my questioning."

"Arrest a knight? That´s not the way I rule here!" The Baron almost lost his temper and stood up to make his point clear:

"We do NOT arrest nobles in my sector… is this clear?!"

Raven got up too and once again wandered around the Baron´s tent.

"Do I need to remind you of the parchment that I sent to you as I entered your camp, signore? Isn´t there a clear verdict which forces you to help my quest… a quest on behalf of our King?"

The Baron said nothing, but lifted the entire wine bottle to his mouth and drank it dry. Then he looked at the ground as if wondering the growth of the grass and sighed deeply. When his gaze finally returned to Raven he was full of new understanding.

"I do apologize, sir Raven. My King shall have everything as requested."

"Good! You do not need to use force, signore. All I want is that he is brought before me. You may choose the method yourself. If you like, you may also join my questioning to see that no injustice is reserved for a noble under your command."

The Baron nodded, approvingly. Then he continued:

"What is the name of this knight that you seek?"

"Sir Sorel of Quifford, from Quinelles. He should be arriving very soon."

"Ok, then. We´ll _welcome_ him immediately as he joins my camp."


End file.
